Louise Donovan
African women who leave home to work as nannies or housekeepers in the Persian Gulf know they’re risking their lives. The influx of reports detailing unpaid wages, sexual assault and – at times – death are impossible to ignore.
Nurses, however, garner less attention. As countries like Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates expand their healthcare sectors, the demand for migrant care workers is rising. This sounds like good news – employment opportunities are often few and far back home. Yet in reality, migrant nurses face similarly degrading working conditions.
A new report by Equidem, a human and labor rights organisation, lays out the reality of womens’ lives in the Gulf. Their researchers spoke to more than two dozen nurses from Kenya, Ethiopia and Uganda working in the UAE’s hospitals and private homes.
They faced racial discrimination, intimidation, excessive overtime, exposure to toxic chemicals and physical and sexual violence. Some reported being forced to pay illegal recruitment fees, others said they were confined to their employer accommodation.
“I’m not allowed to go outside at night and have a midnight curfew whenever I am not working,” Amari, a Ugandan nurse, told Equidem’s researchers, who changed workers’ names for their security.
“They don’t allow white doctors to interact with black nurses,” said Tesfaye, from Ethiopia.
Families in many Arab countries rely on low-paid staff from Asia and Africa to clean their homes and look after their children. This plays out in the healthcare sector, too, with foreign workers making up 90% of health staff in Dubai (jumping to 96% in Abu Dhabi).
Regionally, the UAE and Saudi Arabia spend the most on healthcare, in response to aging populations, mandatory health insurance policies and a push to strengthen medical tourism. Global investors have flocked to fund this growth – pushing an even greater reliance on migrant care workers.
Most housekeepers are hired via recruitment agents. In theory, this means women are safer because they sign a contract and can be traced if issues arise. The recruitment of nurses, in contrast, is largely unregulated, says Martha Waithira, an Equidem investigator and former domestic worker who escaped exploitation in the Gulf.
Women spot jobs on Facebook and find themselves on a plane weeks later. While the money is better (nurses can earn more than four times as domestic workers), it’s more precarious. There is often no agreement or written contract. “It’s like a conversation,” explains Waithira. “It’s between you and your employer and that’s it.”
Others wrap up as housekeepers and switch industries. After completing a short course, women receive a certificate and easily find jobs, says Waithira. They are not medically trained but provide extra support to patients, such as changing bedsheets or diapers.
For a long time, the route into nursing wasn’t well known, she adds. Although things are now changing, exploitative conditions persist.
“There is a lot more racism,” says Waithira, who added that while African women work 12-hour days, others clock off after eight. “They are being treated badly.”
Despite claims of reform, kafala laws still exist across the region, with employers continuing to exercise a great deal of control over their employees’ mobility, Equidem says.
“They will make it difficult for me to leave the job,” said Adiba, a Ugandan nurse in the UAE. “They will ban my visa and ask me to pay them for the visa.”
There are now calls to strengthen protections for migrant workers providing essential care in the Gulf. As reports of African women returning home in coffins show no sign of abating, those calls couldn’t be more urgent.
